


The Maker’s Inquisiton

by FelinaTheDevil



Series: The Maker’s Inquisition [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon's Dogma
Genre: Ancient Elves (Dragon Age), Angst and Feels, Arlathan, Bilingual Character(s), Blood Mage Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Blood Magic, Historical References, Immortality is an actual curse, Magically Impaired Character, Mild Language, Multi, Not A Fix-It, Other, Partner Betrayal, Politics, Sorry Not Sorry, Swearing, Templars, The Fade, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2019-10-11 01:56:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17437694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FelinaTheDevil/pseuds/FelinaTheDevil
Summary: Three thousand years have passed; none have met Amara's expectations. Her only comfort is her companion, and glimpsing a world every time hers restarts. A world that appears much more advanced, and Amara knows this is their future if she ends the cycle. Plunging the Godsbane through her heart in a ritual, she falls into a deep sleep, prepared to help the new world.Also on FF.net





	1. The Beginning of the End

**Author's Note:**

> For this story, I will be using elements from numerous religions - including Ancient Egyptian, Roman, Latin and Wiccan. And let me tell you, translating Latin into something semi-understandable is hard.  
> I don’t own Dragons Dogma or Dragon Age blah blah blah...

“Well met, Arisen.” From beneath her glowing hood, Amara mentally sighed at the new Arisen’s slight awe. _How many times have I greeted a new Arisen?_ “I’ll not waste time on rhetoric: defeat me, and take my place as keeper of this world.” 

Lifting her arm, she splayed her hand, revealing the world beneath them. “You saw it awaiting you at the end of your descent. Aye. The same world you’ve travelled to arrive at this place. A world you may well now inherit.” The new Arisen stepped forward, but she raised a hand. “It is a simple proposition. No different than any you’ve faced.”

She hurled the Arisen away, the motion of flicking her hand automatic. After three thousand years, Amara hoped this one would prove themselves. “You need only the will to claim what is offered you.” She stood, feeling her magic curl around her hands. “... The will to survive!”

With that, she sent a wall of light at the woman, watching in indifference as she barely dodged. At this point, Amara let her mind wander, her body going through the moves. Within seconds the new Arisen — _What had I named her? Callisto? No, that was the last one... Calida, that was it. Not that names really matter anymore, she’ll die anyway._ Calida was slowing down, each pause between swinging longer. _Young, too young to be doing this._ “What is it that impels you? What force spurs you on? What sustained your wonderings and led you here?”

Amara thought of what had been her answer when she was the Arisen. _I have come here for power, Maker. I will rule, no matter the consequences._ She had been young, naive and power hungry back then. She hadn’t considered the consequences dire. By the first century, Amara realised no matter what she did with her powers, she could not stop the eternal ring. But she was stubborn- she wouldn’t give up that easily.

She didn’t bother dodging as the sword dragged across her skin, the cloak and flesh ripping but soon fixing itself. All this, merely a game. Utterly boring. She vanished as she went to strike again, walking behind her with a swirling black orb. The warrior stared at her, wary.

“Consider... The infinite potential...” Amara murmured, turning her palm downwards, the black and green orb staying on her palm. She dropped it, her magic curling across it and shaping it into the Arisen before her. “Just as you call forth pawns, so I command all life into existence. Call it divine creation if you must, but expect none of the mercy men seek in their gods. This is cold truth. The unbending reality of a world without compassion.” 

A push of her hand, and the new creation hurtled forwards. “The world and all its denizens are but empty vessels. In that regard, no different from the pawns...” A ball of fire turned the new creation into a burnt corpse, and Amara grimaced at the smell. “Without volition, there is no true life. The world falls stagnant, dead as an ocean with no current to guide it. The volition is tempered by the struggle for survival. The decision, just like yours, to fight. Just as the pawn’s need a master’s command, so the world thirsts for the will to live.”

This time, Amara didn’t hold back her magic, the wall of light sending the Arisen flying. She sent wave after wave, not pausing in her assault. The fourth wave left the Arisen on all fours, panting as she curled into herself. In all honesty, Amara was disappointed. With one final wave, she died.

The world appeared beneath the warrior, but Amara paid no attention to her becoming a dragon. Instead, she walked over to another world that had opened. The world beneath her was rich of life; humans, elves, dwarves and horned people. There were cities, towns and villages — more advanced than the ones here. She knew that if she ended the eternal ring, this could be their future. A prospering future, but with its own demons.

She watched as the land changed to a civil war, to a dark haired girl fighting a horned person, to a bright flash of green and warriors and mages fighting. There would be pain, there always was, but Amara knew this future would have no more Arisen’s. No more Dragon.

_But what if your death is the reason so much chaos happens? _A voice whispered. _What if your death will cause the same destruction Grigori’s did?___

__Amara swallowed, watching as the world — their future — disappeared. The Dragon’s death had resulted in half of Gran Soren being destroyed, killing many innocents. Men, women... _Children_. Though the cycle would end with her death, she feared everything going down with her. The thought of destroying innocent lives left a hollowness in her heart. If she was going to end the eternal ring, she wanted to be there to stop the aftermath._ _

__With a sigh, she walked to her throne; it was a comforting support to her wary body. She tapped at the armrest, wondering what she should do._ _

___I need someone to take over when I die. No, not one person — the weight of this burden is heavy. I can barely handle it myself. I need to create a group of gods, each with their own role to play. A group of light, one of darkness, and demons. The demons I saw need to originate from somewhere. Maybe a hierarchy? One person to rule one race, then a group who puts their words into action._ _ _

____I need to ensure I survive... A trip to a few abandoned, ancient dwellings will give me answers..._ Amara paused, a cold dread coiling around her heart. _I need to find something so I can keep my powers. If I become mortal, I will turn to dust. Maybe my willpower will be enough? Hm, no. I must take precautions.__ _ _

_____ _

~0o.o0~

The time in her domain was hard to judge — she had no light, nor had darkness to judge how much time passed. She used the Arisen’s to work it out- they typically came to her every two weeks.

Amara guessed at least a month had passed, with how thorough she had been in her planning- thank herself (can’t really say Maker when that’s you) for not needing sleep. Ryder had been resistant at first, but soon warmed up to her plan. He knew the eternal ring had to end sooner or later. Two more months of going over the ritual in detail and deciding on the new leaders of the world, and they were ready. The ritual would be easy — both herself and Ryder are fluent in wyrm speak. 

“Everything we see,” Amara murmured to her companion, “will be able to finally prosper. This world will start anew. It will be ruled by four people and their companions, each with their own purpose.” She hesitated. “Ryder, I need to ask you... I will need you to say the incantation, but when I finally wake... will you join me in the new world?”

“Of course,” Ryder said, smiling. “I will always be by your side.”

Amara smiled back at him, taking a moment to studying him. He was a reflection of her. Being half Elven, Amara was lithe with tanned skin, gold eyes always darkened with a wise sadness, and mid-length auburn hair. Ryder towered over her, muscles rippling under bronze skin, obsidian eyes watching for the smallest movement, and black hair a mess atop his head. Where Amara was steel hearted from centuries of learning the hard way, Ryder made sure to draw out her softer side when needed.

“Thank you. I have decided to destroy all but one Riftstone. The pawns will no longer be needed in this world, and they will live in another. I’ve already sent them off. I created a small... pocket dimension. A place where they can live in their own world, and not have to die when I begin the ritual. You will go with them, but the Riftstone will glow when it is time to come back. Shall we?”

Ryder nodded, and they both travelled to the Conqueror’s Sanctuary, just west-south of the Eradication Site. They stood at the second highest hill, where a hidden cave was. Amara took the lead, using her magic to move the boulder that hid the entrance, and walked inside. The cave was medium sized, magic runes across the walls, roof, floor and boulder so it would not collapse in, or anyone, except Ryder, enter. A stone bed stood to the far end, with a thick layer of soft materials on it to ensure she would wake up without a stiff back. Runes were carved into the bed to ensure she would stay warm through winter, and cool through summer.

Unsure of when she would wake up, the large basin of water at the right had been etched with runes to ensure it would stay fresh. The same runes had been put on a container of food, next to the basin. A Riftstone stood to the left, with a chest that held her armour. Her Hallowed Dragon archistaff And two Sapfire daggers leaned against the chest.

In the middle of the cave, a large pentagon had been carved into the floor. A white candle sat at each point, representing the Five Archmagicks. A stick, the Godsbane, and five bowls sat in the middle- three of the wooden bowls held ox blood, wyrm blood and the third soon to have hers. The fourth was a copper bowl, with a strand of her hair and a simple amulet made of ancient ore. The fifth held salt.

“Well,” Amara said, sitting in the middle of the pentagram, “It is time. Pass me the bowl and stick, please.”

Ryder obeyed, handing her the objects. Placing them down beside her, Amara used the foreign knife on her waist to cut her palm. With how quickly her body healed, she had to repeat the process a few times before there was enough in the bowl. Satisfied, she handed the bowl to Ryder, who placed it back where it had been. Her magic soon had the stick alight; Ryder hesitated, but took it.

Amara laid down, making sure not to hit anything. She felt exposed, only wearing a Bliaut and brown laced leggings. The copper bowl was moved to above her head, while the three bowls of blood stayed at her right. The bowl of salt sat at her left. She looked up to where Ryder stood above her, noticing the crease between his brows. “Are you ready?”

Ryder nodded. “I am.”

“Then let us begin.”

Nodding again, Ryder lit each candle, whispering a prayer to each element. Once finished, he grabbed the bowl of salt, gently letting it fall around the pentagram as he chanted in wyrmspeak.

“ _circum circulus_ (three times around the circle bound)  
_Corrumpere ab deme_ (Take away the corrupt)  
_Sic fiat_ (So mote it be!)”

Amara swallowed, feeling the magic around her lighten. Goosebumps scattered across her arms, hairs raising from the thickness and power of the magic. She could feel some unknown weight pressing her down, making it slightly hard to breathe.

Placing the bowl down, Ryder kneeled next to the copper bowl. Wrapping the strand of hair carefully around the amulet, he began to chant again.

“ _Quod serviemus quasi phylacterium praesidium_ (that will serve as a talisman protection)  
_Is mos protegere te ab omni malo_ (it will protect you from all evil)  
_Er Redemption Spaulders aliquid vel defendat adversus quis vult nocere Amara Ward_ (the Talisman protect against anything or anyone wants to hurt Amara Ward)  
_Nemo potest removere ad ligaturam cucurreris_ (No man can remove the amulet)  
_Et custos semper manere phylacterium_ (the guardian talisman stay forever)”

The pressure had gotten worse, increasing as the amulet was placed back in the bowl. Amara swallowed around the lump in her throat, willing herself to calm down. Her heart thudded against her aching chest. Her body shook, hands and feet tingling. _Focus, focus, oh God..._

Amara tilted her head to the side, watching as Ryder combined the three bowls of blood. She forced her body to relax as Ryder dipped a finger into the bowl, drawing the symbol on her Bliaut. The blood felt like fire, scorching through her clothes and burning her skin. 

“ _sanguinem, pugnatores crescere lassus_ (thick blood, fighters grow tired)  
_Mundi sequitur, liberum ab aeterno anulum_ (the world goes free from the eternal ring)  
_Hoc mundo renati_ (this world reborn)  
_Hoc tempore oblitus, nunquam ivenitur_ (this time forgotten, never to be found)  
_Solum unun hoc manebit_ (Only this one will remain)  
_potentia manet in morte et vita, sed nunquam_ (their power remains in death and in life, but never detected)”

Shadows played at the edges of her vision. Amara could barely make out Ryder’s shape, and the Godsbane in his hand. The buzzing in her ears muffled the final chant. Electricity danced across her body, making it tingle and go numb. She felt as if she was floating.

_Pain._

It seared her chest, cracking bone. She could hear muscles and nerves gouging together, heartbeat slowing. Her throat burned. The pain seemed eternal, darkness and light flashing across her vision. _Stop, stop, please! I want it to end!_

Bones grinded. Muscles came back together as the Godsbane left. The wound was quick to heal, bones cracking into place. The numbness was a welcome sensation, spreading across her chest and encircling her limbs. With a sigh, Amara closed her eyes and fell into the comforting darkness and dreams.

~0o.o0~

_Four guardians had been created, each holding a piece of her power._

_Hermia was the first. Amara took her time creating the guardian of dwarves, only realising later how similar she had made the dwarf to an old lover. Hermia was short and stocky, blonde hair framing a strong, pale face. Bright blue eyes stood out from the blue-black markings. Barely a month will pass and Hermia will manage to earn a deep scar across her left jaw, her blonde stubble growing around it. Many would pass her off as any other dwarf - passionate, stubborn and a strong constitution. Though true, Hermia held a high intelligence, using her outer appearance to blend in. Secrets were never safe from her, and Hermia tended to forget that most people were sensitive._

_“My Maker. How may I serve you?” They were the dwarf’s first words to her. It was filled with such reverence, both words and eyes, that Amara teared up._

_Kneeling, Amara cradled the familiar face. “You, Hermia, my eroque tecum (kindred), will be the guardian of dwarves.”_

_“Only me? Alone? Will you be there, my Maker?” Bright blue eyes dimmed, becoming glassy._

_Amara hushed her with a kiss to the forehead. “Of course I will be there, eroque tecum, as often as I can be. There will be times I cannot be there, though. But you do not have to be alone — you feel the knowledge of creating beings, yes?”_

_“I do, my Maker.”_

_“Please, call me Amara.” Smiling softly, she stood up. “Now, whilst you think and create your own people, I will get started on creating on the next two people.”_

_Hermia nodded, walking away to have more room. Amara had created her domain again, finding it easier to do this in a familiar place._

_Summoning her magic, Amara set upon creating the guardian of humans — Valdus. He was built for archery, with defined muscles beneath darkened skin. His dark grey hair was parted at the side and slightly shaved, with stubble covering his jaw and neck. He did not strike her as being a person big on markings — his bright green eyes, and scar across his left eye that would come in a few months, stood out enough. Subtlety was never his forte; he much preferred to be up-front and honest. He was compassionate towards his people, as to him they came first._

_“I live to serve you, my Maker.” A passionate loyalty resonated through his first words. “What is my name?”_

_Amara smiled, lifting a hand and tracing just under his left eye. “Your name is Valdus. You are the guardian of humans. Hermia, the guardian of dwarves, is over there. Please, go and speak with her while I create the guardian of elves.”_

_Valdus bowed to her, turning on his heel and introducing himself to the now smiling Hermia. Smile widening, Amara set upon creating the last guardian._

_The guardian of the elves was named Fen’ghilanas; Guiding Soul Of Wolves, though Amara knew she would refer to him as Ghilanas in the future. He was pale, tall and slim, with light grey-blue eyes that reminded her of her husband, and mid-length, half shaven dark brown hair. He would be prideful, flirting a lot, sly and fiercely protective of those he considered friends._

_Fen’ghilanas took her hand, kissing it whilst locking gazes with her. “Your wish is my command. What is my name and purpose, my Maker?”_

_Amara forced herself not to shiver._ Do not get distracted so quickly! _“Your name is Fen’ghilanas, the guardian of elves. Please, go and say hello to Valdus, guardian of humans, and Hermia, guardian of dwarves. I have to create the last guardian.”_

_Fen’ghilanas kissed her hand once more and left. Shaking her head, Amara focused on the last guardian — the guardian of the Qunari. She called upon the dragon, noticing the three guardians stare in shock as a large, red dragon landed and bowed before Amara._

_“Calida,” Amara greeted. “I have summoned you back to the living to ask if you would like to be the guardian of the Qunari.”_

_Calida rumbled in thought, finally nodding. “Aye, I would be honoured. May I request for a human form, similar to this current one?”_

_“But of course.” With that, Amara wrapped her magic around the dragon, changing her. She gave Calida strong features with pointed ears. Her skin was a tanned brown with a slight red hue, scars littered across her face, shoulders, arms and back in a pattern similar to scales. She still had the same horns._

_“Gold eyes would put others minds to rest,” Calida suggested._

_Amara nodded, changing Calida’s eyes from red to gold. “Perfect.”_

_~~~_

_After that, Amara started on the six groups of Gods and Goddesses._

_The first had been what was now known as the Old Gods. Their leader, Dumat, had been merely an alias of Calida’s. Amara has already seen their future, and it was only a matter of time before she had to curse them to death._

“Please, Amara, do not kill them.” Calida’s gold eyes shone with unshed tears. The pure emotion on her face shocked Amara. Calida always wore full armour, screaming from head to toe demonic dragon. Now, the helm was removed.

Amara sighed, nodding. “Alright, da’isenatha (little dragon), I will not kill them. Instead, they will be cursed to eternal slumber.”

The relief was instant, Calida’s shoulders dropping as if a huge burden had been removed. “Thank you.”

_~~~_

_The Old Gods would serve another purpose anyway. Most of the Qunari had settled into Par Vollen, so Calida stayed there to watch over them._

_The second group were now known as the Forgotten Ones, who were created by Fen’ghilanas. The amount of members were soon forgotten to the world, but Amara and Ghilanas remembered each and every one of them. They had all been created by the world, with barely any connection to him._

_The Forbidden Ones had been the third group created. Four unique and powerful demons, their source of creation unknown to mortals. Amara had struggled to create such beings, but knew they were needed to keep the world balanced._

_The fourth group were Hermia’s children — the Titans, or as many knew them, the “pillars of the Earth”. The earthquakes were far and in between, though a small war had broken out between Hermia’s and Fen’ghilanas’ children. Sorting it out had been a messy business._

_The fifth weren’t created through her, but influenced through Valdus. She had given him permission to let the title of Maker be his, curious to how her shield brother would have this path of the Chantry go. Though, Valdus had a weakness for blonde mages; mainly the woman now known as Andraste. Amara had liked the woman- passionate and a born leader, characteristics that Amara found pleasing._

_The sixth group had only one directly connected to her, while the rest barely did. Elgar’nan the Allfather had been Fen’ghilanas’ and Amara’s first child. He had a twin, though the memory of said twin was hazy. Amara had drawn upon the moon to create Mythal the Protector, before she fell into slumber. Watched as their six children joined them, creating a world of prosperity._

_Solas, or Fen’Harel, was Amara’s and Fen’ghilanas’ second and last child. Amara had seen his future; the joy, the pain, the regret, the madness. Born immortal with powerful magic bestowed from his parents, and soon blessed with godhood. Being only a spirit at this point, Amara could do nothing as she watched Fen’ghilanas abandon Solas to a clan, too focused on their first child. Out of all of them, the pale elfling had been the only one she visited. He would never see nor hear her, but would feel her presence. Centuries of peace passed before Amara knew it was time to let him continue alone, knowing what would happen to the Elven pantheon and the Forgotten Ones. After what they did to Mythal, why would she stop him?_

_She could do nothing in her non corporeal form, anyway. And being non corporeal and unable to defend herself, she never expected her own lover to curse her._


	2. Inquisition Reborn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was _very_ hesitant to post this chapter to the point I’ve been editing it for over a week. But you know what, I’m happy with how it has turned out.

Groaning, Amara moved her arms to stretch, dazedly wondering why metal bit her skin. _This is new_. She opened her eyes, blinking to adjust to the light. _Oh, swords. Lovely. Bloody hell, what did I do last night? And - did my hand just flash green?_

A door slammed opened, two women storming in. A bard and Knight, Amara guessed. The Bard hid her face beneath a hood, and from her position Amara could only make out a sliver of red hair.

The Knight spoke. “Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now. The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead, except for you.”

Amara remained silent, eyeing the woman. _She reminds me of someone..._

“Explain this!” The Knight grabbed her manacles, hauling her up.

Amara hissed as the mark flashed again, forcing the words out. “I… can’t.”

The woman let her go, glaring at her. “What do you mean, you can’t?“

"I don’t know what that is or how it got there.” _Or how I got here. Why can’t I remember? This isn’t good. Someone’s tampered with my memory again..._

“You’re lying!”

The Knight moved forward, only to be stopped by the Bard who finally spoke. “We need her, Cassandra.”

“I don’t understand,” Amara said, genuinely confused.

The Bard crossed her arms. “Do you remember what happened? How this began?”

“I remember running. Things were chasing me. And then… a woman?” _There’s a gap in my memory... Well, another gap_. She narrowed her eyes, trying to remember. It only left her mind blank.

“A woman?”

Amara nodded, distracted. “She reached out to me, but then…”

Cassandra interrupted her. “Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to the rift.”

Leliana nodded, turning on her heel and leaving.

Amara looked to Cassandra. The woman was fierce looking. _Nice hairstyle too_. “What did happen?”

Cassandra pulled Amara to her feet, replacing the manacles with rope. “It will be easier to show you.”

Once outside, Amara looked up to see... _Seriously? Again? I decide to live with a clan for five years and this happens? I’m having some serious words with the others when I find them._

Cassandra spoke. “We call it the Breach. It’s a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. It’s not the only such rift, just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the conclave.”

“An explosion can do that?” Amara felt stupid for asking. Of course an explosion can. _Or maybe Calida did it. She does love explosions... Though, I can’t think of any reason why she would travel all the way here to do that._

Cassandra nodded. “This one did. Unless we act, the breach may grow until it swallows the world.”

The Breach pulsed, Amara falling to the ground in pain as the mark flared. The magic radiating off the mark felt familiar. It seemed to be both welcoming yet rejecting her magic, causing a nerve-tingling loop where they touched.

Cassandra kneeled in front of her. “Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads… and it is killing you. It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn’t much time.”

 _Ryder will have a heart attack once he finds out._ “I understand.”

Cassandra stared at her, hopeful. “Then...?”

“I’ll do what I can, whatever it takes.”

Cassandra helped Amara to her feet, leading her through the town. The villagers scowled at them as Cassandra began talking. “They have decided your guilt. They need it. The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry. The Conclave was hers. It was a chance for peace between mages and templars. She brought their leaders together. Now, they are dead.”

_The other creators and I are going to have a very long talk._

 

~0o.o0~

 

“Quickly, before more come through!”

A hand grabbed Amara’s wrist, holding the mark up to the rift. Something tugged at her hand and snapped, the Rift closing.

Amara turned to the bald elf, and for a moment she felt her heart clench, but she was unsure why. _Maybe because he looks like Fen’ghilanas?_ “What did you do?” _And who are you?_

The elf looked smug. “I did nothing. The credit is yours.”

Amara looked to the mark. “At least this is good for something.”

“Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorised the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake — and it seems I was correct.”

“Meaning it could also close the Breach itself,” Cassandra said.

“Possibly.” The elf looked to Amara, eyes alight with curiosity. “It seems you hold the key to our salvation.”

_Heh. You have no clue._

“Good to know! Here I thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever.” A dwarf approached them, introducing himself. “Varric Tethras: rogue, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tagalong.” Varric winked at Cassandra, who scowled in response.

Amara tilted her head forward, forcing a smile on her lips. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Varric.” She remembered Hermia excitedly telling her about the dwarf. ‘ _Varric helped the Champion of Kirkwall. Oh, and his books! You must read them_ ’. Amara had read a few — they were good.

The elf stepped next to her. “You may reconsider that stance, in time.”

“Aww,” Varric grinned. “I’m sure we’ll become great friends in the valley, Chuckles.”

Cassandra scowled. _Is scowling her normal expression?_ “Absolutely not. Your help is appreciated, Varric, but…”

“Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker?” Varric interrupted, stepping closer. “Your soldiers aren’t in control anymore. You need me.” A smug grin stretched across his features. Amara liked the dwarf already.

Cassandra made a disgusted noise in response.

“My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions. I’m pleased to see you still live.” The elf, Solas, smiled at her.

 

_“You two are too prideful!”_

_“We should call our next son Solas then.”_

 

 _Could he...?_ Amara mentally shook herself. _Don’t be foolish, Amara. You are jumping to conclusions too quickly. There are quite a few elves named Solas; the name merely triggered that memory again. It comes up every once in a while. Plus, it doesn’t mean I named my second son that. I had two sons, right? Or three... Fenedhis, I am too old for this._

Varric interrupted her thoughts. “He means, ‘I kept that mark from killing you while you slept.'”

Amara jumped onto the subject, not wanting to think further on the recurring memory. “You seem to know a great deal about it all.”

“Like you, Solas is an apostate,” Cassandra said.

“Technically, all mages are now apostates, Cassandra,” Solas replied. “My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, far beyond the experience of any Circle mage. I came to offer whatever help I can give with the Breach. If it is not closed, we are all doomed, regardless of origin.”

“And what will you do once this is all over?” Amara asked, curious.

“One hopes that those in power will remember who helped, and who did not.” He looked to Cassandra. “Cassandra, you should know: the magic involved here is unlike any I have ever seen. Your prisoner is a mage, but I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power.”

_I know five people, including myself, who do have that power. Hermia would never do something like that. Calida... Maybe; but she always consults me. Valdus might, given that he’s been very moody and distant. Though, I wouldn’t be too surprised if Fen’ghilanas is behind this. Considering I have another memory gap, previous experience point to him._

Cassandra nodded. “Understood. We must get to the forward camp quickly.” With that, she started down the hill.

Varric grinned at Amara. “Well, Bianca’s excited!”

After taking down a few more Demons, Solas spoke. “You are Dalish, but clearly away from the rest of your clan. Did they send you here?”

“What do you know of the Dalish?” Amara asked, looking to him as she sheathed her daggers. Personally, Amara never considered herself Dalish- the only reason she joined them was because they were still her people. And with Fen’ghilanas gone, someone needed to watch over them. Which meant she had to make her appearance more Elven, being only born half. And the _vallas'lin_ — argh, it had been hard to do at the time. Amara went with the markings of Mythal, to honour her daughter-in-law.

After a year, Amara had revealed everything to clan Lavellan and showed them that she was telling the truth. Since then, some had asked for their vallas’lin to be removed, while others kept theirs. ‘We will make a new meaning for these markings’, they had said. Amara respected that. And after so long of having her own, Amara had grown quite attached to her own golden vallas’lin.

“I have wandered many roads in my time, and crossed paths with your people on more than one occasion.”

Amara snorted. “Let me guess, they attacked you due to superstition. Unfortunately, some Dalish do not like the idea that an elf with no clan has better knowledge then them.”

“You say that as if you know from experience.”

“I’ve been with clan Lavellan for five years. Before that... Well, let’s just say a lot of Dalish tried to kill me as soon as opened my mouth about ancient history.” She shivered, and not from the cold. “You learn pretty quickly to be careful.”

“Can’t you elves just play nice for once?” Varric asked.

Amara gave him a wolfish grin. “Only when we can all collectively agree on a few key things in Elven history.”

 

~0o.o0~

 

After helping the Scouts, they finally reached the Temple of Sacred Ashes. They walked down, a voice speaking.“Now is the hour of our victory. Bring forth the sacrifice.”

 _He sounds familiar_ , Amara thought.

“What are we hearing?” Cassandra asked.

Solas answered her. “At a guess: The person who created the Breach.”

Amara noticed some red lyrium growing out of the ground on the right side of the path. Varric spoke up. “You know this stuff is red lyrium, Seeker.”

Cassandra sighed. “I see it, Varric.”

“But what it’s doing here?”

“Magic could have drawn on lyrium beneath the temple, corrupted it…” Solas mused.

Varric shook his head. “It’s evil. Whatever you do, don’t touch it.”

“Keep the sacrifice still.” The familiar voice spoke again. _I know him, but from where?_

Another voice, more feminine, spoke. “Someone help me!”

“That is Divine Justinia’s voice!” Cassandra said.

Jumping down to some stones, they approached the rift. The mark flared again.

“Someone help me!” The voice repeated.

“You dare touch that orb?”

Amara blinked. Cassandra spoke before she could. “That was your voice. Most Holy called out to you. But…”

A white light flashed, ghostly images appearing. A woman, Divine Justinia Amara guessed, floated in place by some red energy wrapped around her arms. A large figure with glowing red eyes loomed over the bound woman. Amara watched as her ghostly self barged in, flames a light in her hands and mouth twisted in a snarl. “You dare touch that orb?”

Justinia looked to her. “Run while you can! Warn them!”

The demon looked to her, pointing. “We have an intruder. Slay the Seneschal.”

Another flash of white, and the ghostly images disappeared.

Cassandra rounded on Amara. “You were there! Who attacked? And the Divine, is she…? Was this vision true? What are we seeing?”

“I don’t remember!” Amara burst out, voice cracking. She barely noticed Cassandra stepping back in surprise. _Why can’t I remember? That orb must be Elvhen... whoever that demon is, he stole one of the orbs. But whose? And how did he know I am the Seneschal? Who_ is _he?_

“Echoes of what happened here. The Fade bleeds into this place,” Solas said. “This rift is not sealed, but it is closed… albeit temporarily. I believe with the mark, the rift can be opened and then sealed properly and safely. However, opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side.”

Cassandra nodded, grim. “That means demons. Stand ready!”

As soon as the soldiers were ready, Amara opened the Rift, watching as a Pride demon came out.

“Now!” Cassandra yelled, charging, the others following.

Amara spun, daggers slicing into the smaller demons. She sent a shockwave through her palm, knocking back a demon. Magic sparking, her dagger flew in a wide arc, sending a wave of fire at the Pride demon. It roared, charging at her.

The soldiers scattered. Sheathing her daggers, she took out her Archistaff. _Please work_. Amara breathed deeply, fighting hard to draw magic from the Fade. _Three, two, one..._

The whirlwind had the demon struggling to move, claws desperately digging into the ground. The next pulse of magic through her archistaff had meteors hitting the demon. It screamed, bones cracking, giving one last twitch of its clawed hand before dying.

Ignoring the looks, Amara turned to the Rift, sealing it. Her magic withered, exhausted from having to fight to draw magic from the Fade. The ground enveloped her as the Rift closed.

 

~0o.o0~

 

The Inquisition had been reborn. Amara already knew of it, but as a ‘Dalish’, she made sure to ask questions. Ryder had arrived a few minutes after — which she was thankful for, as it made explaining the whole Seneschal and orb thing easier. As far as anyone was concerned, Amara had no memory (which is half true) and the magic she used had been pure extinct and had no clue where she learned it, and Ryder knew nothing of it.

After discussing about visiting mother Giselle and deciding to leave tomorrow, Amara left to inform Varric and Solas. Ryder had decided to scout around and help the villagers, but not before teasing her about being distracted by Commander Cullen.

Varric was easy to find, and he greeted her with a smile. “So, now that Cassandra’s out of earshot, are you holding up all right? I mean, you go from being the most wanted criminal in Thedas to joining the armies of the faithful. Most people would have spread that out over more than one day.”

Amara sighed. “This... Isn’t my first time having to handle so much information at once. It never gets easier.” She paused, thinking over her next words carefully. _This is where I would show compassion, yes?_ She kept her voice soft. “I don’t even want to think about how many lives were lost on that mountain top.”

“A lot of good men and women didn’t make it out there,” Varric said. “For days now, we’ve been staring at the Breach, watching demons and Maker-knows-what fall out of it. ‘Bad for morale’ would be an understatement. I still can’t believe anyone was in there and lived.”

Amara tilted her head. “If it was that bad, why did you stay? Cassandra said you were free to go.”

Varric shrugged. “I like to think I’m as selfish and irresponsible as the next guy, but this… Thousands of people died on that mountain. I was almost one of them. And now there’s a hole in the sky. Even I can’t walk away and just leave that to sort itself out.”

Amara hummed. “I’m still not sure I believe that any of this is really happening.”

“If this is all just the Maker winding us up, I hope there is a damn good punch line coming.”

Amara couldn’t help but snort. _That depends on which Maker you refer to. If the other three are winding us up, then I’m going to give them the scolding of their life._ “Oh, we’ll be going to the Hinterlands tomorrow. Will you join us?”

“Of course.”

“Good. Do you know where Solas is?”

Varric pointed. “Up there.”

“Thank you. Farewell.” With that, Amara made her way to where Solas was. She took a moment to study his features, a heavy ache grinding down on her chest. She mentally frowned. _This is ridiculous. I don’t even know this elf._

Solas smiled at her. “The Chosen of Andraste. A blessed hero sent to save us all.”

“Am I riding in on a shining steed?” Amara joked. “Or better yet, a Griffon. Maybe a Chimera —actually, no, those things are awful. Is it necessary for a goat head to be able to use magic?” She shook her head, silently cursing herself. _This is what I get for not being in an actual village._ “Ah, enough about that. We’re going to the Hinterlands tomorrow. Will you join us?”

“I will. I am curious, where did you learn such magic? I have never seen it before.”

The lie was easy. _Keep it simple_. “I honestly can’t remember.”

Seeing that she would not talk further, Solas pressed. “Your magic, has it always been so... fragile?”

_Well, since I performed a blood ritual that involved dying and coming back, of course it is. Stupid Veil._

“You mean weak?” Amara asked, blunt. “No. I am still magically powerful, but I can no longer perform spell after spell for long periods of time. Nowadays, I can only send shockwaves, or sparks of fire, ice or lightening, through my palm if my magic is low. It takes at least ten minutes to half an hour to recover just from one spell. Depending on the spell, that is. May we speak of something else, please?”

Solas nodded, doing so. “I’ve journeyed deep into the Fade, in ancient ruins and battlefields to the dreams of lost civilisations. I watched as hosts of spirits clashed to reenact the bloody past in ancient wars both famous and forgotten.” He looked to her. “Every Great War has its heroes. I’m just curious what kind you’ll be.”

“Ruins and battlefields?” Amara knew plenty of them, though she was curious to which he knew.

“Any building strong enough to withstand the vigour of time has a history...”

 

~0o.o0~

 

Night had fallen. Amara crept out of her cabin, quietly making her way out towards the woods, bow and arrow in hand while her archistaff was strapped to her back. She had heard a few soldiers complaining of meat running low, especially with more people coming in, so she decided to hunt some down.

Four rams were herded together. Amara smiled, kneeling on the snow. She felt better now that she had her armour back. Drawing a deep breath, she aimed-

_Snap. Growl._

She forced herself to stay relaxed, ears twitching. The sound was at least two meters to her right. She moved slowly, eyes flicking over the darkness, trying to spot the creature. Her magic thrummed, fingers tingling with restrained magic.

Amara rolled forward, listening to the loud thwump! of the creature landing just where she was. The rams ran. Cursing, Amara spun, aiming her bow-

She groaned in frustration. “Dammit Hermia, don’t do that!”

The white and light brown-gold hyena laughed, turning back into the blonde dwarf. “Oh man, I got you so good.”

“You scared off the people’s food,” Amara grumbled, her smile ruining it. “It’s good to see you. Not that I don’t mind, but why are you here?”

“I — we were worried about you. You didn’t show up to our meeting. What’s happened?”

“If you help me get some food, I’ll tell you everything.”

“Deal.”

 

~~~

 

“... Well, shit. What do you plan to do?”

“For now? Do whatever the Inquisition needs me to do.” Amara took another swig of the ale. The alcohol will never effect her, but she loved the sweet taste. “I better get these into the stores.”

“I’ll help you.” Hermia huffed at Amara’s look. “I can be quiet. Anyway, I’m better at skinning rams then you are, fisherwoman.”

Amara scowled, placing a ram on either shoulder, walking to the stores. “Stone fucker.”

“Go shove a tree up your ass.”

“ _Dhava ‘ma masa_  (Kiss my ass).”

With the food now properly deposited, they made their way back out. Once out of earshot, Amara said, “I best leave you to your duties. With all this happening, I won’t be able to make those meetings.”

Hermia clicked her tongue. “Only three attending the meetings now. At least that evens it out.”

“It does,” Amara agreed. “How’s Valdus and Calida?”

“Valdus isn’t as moody anymore, but this happens every year when Andraste’s death day comes up. Calida is good — she’s been living the life of luxury, that’s for sure.” Hermia paused, answering Amara’s unspoken question. “There is still no trace of him.”

Amara nodded, unsurprised at the answer. It had been the same answer since the fall of the Elvhenan. Fen’ghilanas had suddenly disappeared, but not before cursing Amara by severing the connection to her children, leaving large gaps in her memory, and taking her ability to see the future. Nothing worked to undo the magic. Now, she had no clue of how to find her youngest son, or Elgar’nan’s twin sibling. She knew she had given birth to twins, but anything about the other twin in her memory was gone.

Shaking her head, Amara said, “this mark on my hand, it feels familiar, but I can’t place it. Have you any clue?” She held out her marked hand.

Hermia gently held the offered hand, inspecting it with a hum. Finally, she shook her head. “It’s Elvhen, and feels like your magic. That’s all I can tell. It came from an orb, right? Must have been one of your grandchildren.”

“... Still at square one, then,” Amara sighed. “When you see Valdus and Calida, send them my way please. Quietly. I need to have some words with them.”

“Ooooh, someone’s in trouble. I’ll see you around.” With that, Hermia turned into her raven form and left.

Amara looked at the mark. _Which of my grandchildren do you belong to? Maybe some meditating will help. Or visiting my companions. So many choices, too many unknowns. Not knowing the future is a hassle._

Not wanting to go back just yet, Amara set up a few wards around her as she leaned against a tree. The snow felt cool through her clothing; not too cold, thanks to her magic. _Sometimes, not being able to properly feel the cold is a curse_. Closing her eyes, she willed herself to the Fade, struggling a moment.

_Being in the Fade always left her nostalgic. The spirits could not reflect her memories, but that never stopped her from using her magic to do so. The memories taunted her, but she could never stop. It was an eternal ring that only ever burdened her shoulders. A dull ache was always left in her chest when she woke._

_Amara walked through The Encampment, taking a moment to admire the place she visited almost any chance she had. Even as Seneschal, she would make a point to visit, watching as Ser Berne instructed his soldiers._

_“Shield up!” Ser Berne barked. Though strict and strong, he was loyal and compassionate. Traits Amara admired._

_Her jaw clenched, gaze hardening at the onslaught of emotions. Centuries later, and it still left cold daggers slicing her heart to think of him. Of all of them._

_The crate creaked as she fell onto it, resting her head on fisted hands. At least here, she could voice her thoughts. “But it was for the greater good, wasn’t it? To stop the eternal ring...”_

_The edges of her domain rippled, alerting her of a new presence. Amara turned to the white wolf. Gold stars, the same colour as her eyes, hovered around her. “Tar’sileal. Where is your companion?”_

_Suddenly, a raven appeared, swooping down and pecking the wolf. Red stars trailed behind him as he flew to Amara, landing on her shoulder. “Right here. The idiot left me behind! A demon could have gotten me and she wouldn’t have known.”_

_“Ter’aju, you killed three demons all by yourself a few moments ago.” Tar’sileal trotted over, accepting the scratch behind her ear with an appreciative rumble._

_Ter’aju cawed in amusement. “The big bad wolf, showing affection. Cute.”_

_Tar’sileal huffed, ears flattening. “Says the one who constantly needs attention.”_

_Amara laughed softly, using her other hand to gently pat the raven’s chest. “There is nothing wrong with wanting affection or attention.”_

_“Something is bothering you, Fen’mae (wolf mother),” Tar’sileal said. To others, it merely sounded like growling, but Amara understood them easily. The only animals she could understand to a point were wolves, ravens and dragons. Both the wolves and ravens understood her too, but only the more intelligent dragons could understand her. And those were few and far between._

_She sighed. “I don’t know the future anymore, old friend. How do I know I will make the right choices?”_

_Tar’sileal rested her head on Amara’s lap. “Have faith. We will find a way through time and patience. You have done this before, no? You can do it again.”_

_“We do not need access to future events to know our goal.” As always, Ter’aju’s voice was cold when talking of serious matters. “Our goal is to find and kill the person who took the orb.”_

_Amara hummed, staying silent. Her two companions were an echo of souls that no longer existed. Though it left her heart in a further state of despair, she knew she could not go on without their guidance. “Thank you, my friends. Anything to report?”_

_“Besides hunting some demons? Nothing,” Ter’aju said, adding, “though, the number of demons have increased.”_

_“Hm. Keep an eye on that.” Amara paused. “It should be sunrise by now. Go check on the other spirits. Make sure they are safe.”_

_“Understood.”_

_“Trying to get rid of us so quickly? Hmph, fine.”_

_She watched them leave. To most, they would be considered demons; they weren’t, of course. They were spirits, but... Evolved. Tar’sileal a spirit of compassion, whilst Ter’aju a spirit of wisdom. Though, Ter’aju’s humour and dramatics made it hard to remember that._

_Feeling someone entering her domain, Amara looked to her right. “Solas.”_

_“Amara,” the bald elf greeted, looking around. “What is this place? I do not recognise it.”_

_Not wanting him to find anything else, she changed the scenery to Haven. “It no longer matters anymore.” She stood, walking towards the forest. Her lips twisted into a scowl. “But what does matter is closing that Breach. And the war. Tsk, the mages and Templar’s are arguing like children — throwing tantrums because they don’t get their way. They condemn what they don’t understand!”_

_“That is true.”_

_“Very much so,_ parum lupus _(little wolf).” She tilted her head, considering him. Wolf indeed. She could feel the magic, reminding her of hunting in the woods at night, of sharpened teeth and howling to the moon. “Many people condemn what they don’t understand — how many innocent lives were lost as a result, hm? Not all of them are bad, ‘tis true, but those corrupted by power should be forced out. For all we know, both sides could be responsible.”_

_She paused, sighing. Mist floated above her. “Or me. Or the mark. Or whoever that demon was. Too many questions, too many unknowns, and not enough answers...” The snow crunched under her pacing, the wind carrying her cursing to the conflicted elf._

_“In the memory, you said, ‘you dare touch that orb’,” Solas said, sounding careful. “Do you know what the orb is?”_

_“A pain in the ass,” Amara grumbled. Her magic radiated heated annoyance, melting the snow around her. The mark tingled. “I bet this is Fen’ghilanas’ fault. Prideful lion never knows when to stop interfering. Ivys esaya gera assan i’isa’av’ingala (he would try to catch an arrow with his teeth).” At this, she paused and sighed. “Aye, but one step forward after the next, come what may. That is what it means to live."_

_Amara shook her head. “On a more serious note, I honestly can’t remember.”_ An utter lie, but I do not trust you enough to tell you everything. _“Whoever was behind this has tampered with my memory. Now, why I would love to talk further, I believe it is time to_ wake up _.”_


	3. Journey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, bit of an explanation for why it is separated by ‘In one, out one’: It’s a meditation technique Rosal’nan used to ground herself. As she breathes in, a memory pops up, and recedes when she breathes out.  
> ALSO, I apologise if the Elvhen translation is iffy.
> 
> BROWNIE POINTS for who can guess what the giant lizard is

 

_An intake._ In one.

“Tune’os dinan’min. Elasa’ga’ta lean i banal ematha’se sul’tamahn sasha emaronun ( _Softness has no place here. Allow both light and darkness to embrace you for there [is] only fairness_ ).”

_The blood trickles down her skin as easily as sweat_. “Lean telithal mar banal’linala, i banal tas ava’esh’ala ( _Light blind your enemies, and darkness to eat them_ ).”

_She exhaled_. Out one.

 

 

In two. “Rya ar’an thanathe is’el aven ( _Must we use their words_ )?”

_Elgar’nan looked away, lips tightening._ “Dya’ar’an tel sila’ahn druem’sul’ema ga’min sule vun ( _Shall we not remember what [was] sacrificed to bring all this into life_ )?”

_She shook her head_. “Dinan’inor var’vhen ( _No place among our people_ ).”

“Na britha’silaima ar’an’tel diane Elvhen, asa’ma’lin. Ar’an da’lin’en sulrahn’var’on’ala ( _You seem to forget we are not full Elvhen, sister. We are children of something far greater_ ).”

_Rosal’nan’s ear twitched, a snarl escaping her_. “Da’lin’en ghest ehn’dalem i bellanaris gaelathe sal’en! ( _Children [of a] monster who destroyed an eternity of pure souls_ )!”

“As’shivanem; on’ala on ( _she did one’s duty; for the greater good_ ).” _Elgar’nan sighed, suddenly weary._ “Ar tel’nuva pana’var’el fra’min. On dhea’lam ( _I do not wish to argue longer on this. Good evening).” With that, he turned on his heel and left the balcony._

_For a moment, the anger overwhelmed her. Her magic vibrated beneath her skin, preparing to strike. She lifted a hand, letting the pain direct her-_

_Only to stop. A shaky breath escaped her._ Do not react. Out two.

 

 

In three. “Ar harthem mar’nin, ara lethal’lan ( _I understood your anger, my blood kin).” Mythal took a sip of her drink, the red staining her lips a stark contrast against her pale skin._ “Telsahngar, Elgar’nan enastem lam tas mah ( _Unfortunately, Elgar’nan favoured past to future_ ).”

“Teleolasan. Ahnsul ama silaimathe’shanel aven ( _I don’t understand. Why to protect forgotten elders words_ ) _?” Rosal’nan shook her head_. “Is‘an din’arulin tas em’an; dinan inor’var era’mana ( _They’re not important to us; no place among our history).”_

_Mythal nodded._ “Vindirthem. Atisha, da’lath’in. Is enemah tas’isa seranna ( _Agreed. [be] calm, little heart. He [is] about to come to his senses_ ).”

But will it be too late? _Rosal’nan felt something cold pierce her heart_. Out three.

 

 

In four. _The scratches across her cheeks stung, a choked scream bursting out unbidden. “Elgar’nan!”_

_She struggled against the hands dragging her back, her magic flaring weakly._ “Din! Sathan, ar’rya’ama ish-( _No! Please, I must protect him-_ )”

_“It is too late!” Hermia appeared in front of her, face ashen. “You need to go, before he sends you away.”_

_“E-”_

_“There will be time for vengeance later. Please, follow me.”_

_Rosal’nan stared at pleading ocean blue eyes. Her voice broke._ “Ma dir’vhen’an nan ( _You promise revenge_ )?”

_“I do.”_

_She went to speak further, but the sudden muffling to her magic sent her onto her knees. She howled. Her magic ripped at itself and her body, withering with her._ Toomuchtoomuchplease _-_

Out four.

 

 

In five.

_Everything hurt; even her bones ached._ Why does Hermia have two heads?

_“I have one head, little one. No, no, stay still. You are still recovering.” A pause, the next words barely heard. “We all are.”_

_“E-Elgar... Nan...” She grimaced, her throat aching from getting the words out. She summoned her magic to heal-_

_Nothing._

_With a cry loud enough to startle Hermia into disappearing from her view, Rosal’nan rolled off the bed. The sheets tightened against her body. Pain laced her hands and knees._ “Din ( _no_ )!”

_She struggled against the sheets, desperate to leave. She needed to find her brother. To know he was safe._

_Hands gently clutched her. Rosal’nan froze. She looked up, seeing Hermia’s sympathetic eyes. Her voice cracked._ “Mahn _(where)_?”

_Hermia kneeled down, hands now hovering on the elf’s shoulders. “I’m sorry.”_

_The pained whine was the only warning the dwarf had. Rosal’nan clutched at Hermia’s coat, her body trembling. Her cheeks stung, lungs desperate for air. Pain blossomed across her chest._

_“I-it should have...” She choked, voice raising, not noticing her slip into Dwarven. “Been me. I’m sor... sorry. My fault...”_

_Arms encircled her, the voice quiet and warm against her hair. “It’s not your fault,_ minimus pectus _(little heart). Shh...”_

_Rosal’nan breathed out, her body rattling from the effort._ Out five _._

 

 

In six.

“Mahn babae ( _where [is] father_ )?”

_Hermia’s jaw clenched, eyes hardening. She seemed to struggle with herself. “He ran. But not before... Before...”_

_Seeing the dwarf’s shaking shoulders, Rosal’nan reached over and started braiding her hair. She switched to Dwarven, finding it much easier to speak compared to Elvhen. “It’s ok, aunt ‘mia. Take your time.”_

_Ten seconds passed. Twenty. Finally, Hermia spoke. “He visited your mother. I... I was too late to stop it.” A shaky breath. “The spells had been finished by the time I found him. He attacked me, said ‘she had asked me to do it’ and ran...”_

_Dread clawed at her. “What did he do?”_

_“He severed her connection to her children. Wiped most of her memory...” Hermia sniffled, rubbing an eye. “I brought her here to view the effects more thoroughly while you slept. She has gaps in most of her memories, but...” At this, Hermia turned, eyes pleading. “Please, forgive me. I could not fix it.”_

_“There is nothing to forgive. You did what you could,” Rosal’nan soothed. “What is it?”_

_“She... She was awake for a few seconds. She told me that she could have stopped all this happening, but she refused to.”_

_The shock to her body made time seem to slow down. She blinked. And as suddenly as she was struck by shock, red hazed her mind. “Why? How could she do this?”_

_Hermia didn’t answer; instead, she looked away, eyes screaming guilt._

_“Aunt ‘mia?” Rosal’nan prodded._

_“I... Your mother had spoken to me months ago. I didn’t think anything by it... She had told me she wanted to start a new slate. Not kill the world, but... To forget... Everything.”_

_Cold dread clawed at her mind. “... Everything?”_

_“Yes. Oh,_ minimus pectus _, I’m so sorry. I- I didn’t think she would do such a thing!” Hermia’s face crumpled, tears rolling down her cheeks. “This is all my fault. I should have taken her seriously.”_

_Numbly, Rosal’nan reached out, clutching Hermia’s trembling body to her_. Out six.

 

 

In seven.

_“How much memory is left of me?”_

_Hermia looked up. “Not a lot.”_

_Rosal’nan took a step closer, noticing how peaceful her mother looked._ Elgar’nan is a spitting image of her _. She paused. Wouldn’t it be_ was _now?_

_Something heavy weighed on her heart. She pushed the emotions away, lips thinning. “Can you get rid of all of it?”_

_“..._ Minimus pectus _, think this through-”_

_“I have,” she interrupted. “I have never been as sure as I am now. Elgar’nan as well, if you can. And_ him _.”_

_“I’ll see what I can do. I won’t be able to erase everything, you understand. How are you feeling?”_

_“Still tired. I wish to stay for a few more days; five at least. Afterwards, I am going to sleep.”_

_Hermia nodded, eyes soft. “Of course.”_

Out seven.

 

 

In eight.

I have slept too long _. She sat up and covered her mouth, trying to force the sob back; but it persisted, bursting out with a high pitched wail. Within seconds her hand and shirt were damp, but she paid no mind._

_Faintly, she noticed laughing echoing off the halls — her laughter. It cut off as abruptly as it came. She breathed, focusing_. Out eight.

 

 

In nine.

_“Are you alright?”_

_Rosal’nan glared at the blurred image of the human, baring her teeth. “Leave me, shem!”_

_The man stepped back, but was quick to shake his head and come closer. He raised his hands. “You’re hurt. Please, I only want to help. I swear.”_

_She chewed her lip, finally grimacing. “Don’t make me regret this.”_

_“You won’t,” he reassured, kneeling in front of her and inspecting the wound. A black-green goo had been hastily wiped off, revealing most of her lower arm to be in a bad rash. “Shit. What attacked you?”_

_“Some giant lizard. It spat venom at me before I could kill it, and my magic has no affect on it.” She hoped the shem would not point of how desperate she sounded._

_Thankfully, he didn’t. Instead, he heaved a sigh. “Have you tried potions?”_

_“... I do not have any.”_

_“Alright. I have a anti-venom powder my grandmother made.” Rummaging through his bag, he withdrew a small bag. “This will hurt for a short moment.”_

_Nodding, Rosal’nan held out her arm. As soon as the powder touched her skin, pain momentarily blinded her. “Fenedhis!”_

_The pain was gone as quick as it had come. Exhaling, she looked at her arm. The powder had absorbed the venom, but the rash was still there. “I should be able to heal the rash, thank you.”_

_He smiled. “No problem.”_

_Now that her vision wasn’t blurry, she took a good look at the human. He had to be in his late twenties, with strong pale features and freckles spread across his cheeks. While one eye was a light brown, the other was cloudy._ I wonder what blinded him _. His dark brown hair was tied in a ponytail. “What is your name?”_

_“Niklas Trevelyn, malady. And yours?”_

_“Rosal’nan.” She paused, realisation hitting her. “You are a noble. Why are you on the road all by yourself?”_

_Niklas rubbed the back of his neck, blushing. “An old friend of mine is with the Inquisition, and I wish to see her. My family refused to let me join the Inquisition, so I decided to run away. Not the best plan, but I can’t turn around now, can I?”_

_“Ah, what a coincidence,” Rosal’nan smiled, the lie leaving her easily. “I happen to be doing the same thing. Maybe we could travel together? Or not, since I am a mage-”_

_“No, I have no problems with mages,” Niklas reassured, shaking his head._

_“The Templar shield says otherwise.”_

_“I left the Templar Order months ago.” He paused, voice soft. “Another reason I ran away.”_

_“Your family viewed you as an embarrassment,” Rosal’nan guessed, frowning when he nodded. “Don’t let them get to you. You are one of very few who have the courage to break away from societies strict beliefs.”_

_“And what if I have wronged the Maker?”_

Oh, uncle Valdus? He’s too busy stuffing his mouth to care _. “Then make up for it by serving the Inquisition. Come on, let’s go.”_

Out nine. 


End file.
